


The Revels

by coyotesuspect



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: M/M, background blue/gansey, dubcon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-05
Updated: 2017-11-17
Packaged: 2018-04-24 21:39:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4936282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coyotesuspect/pseuds/coyotesuspect
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Adam gets kidnapped. Cabeswater - and Ronan - want him back.</p><p>Now complete; not TRK compliant.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The First Night

**Author's Note:**

> Mature rating and dubcon content tag won't be relevant till chapter two. Hit me up if you have any concerns.

Where is he? asked Cabeswater, and the trees shook their fists at the sky.

Where is he? demanded Cabeswater, and the sky darkened and thunder crashed like an artillery shell, loud enough that pure animal fear overrode Ronan and pushed him to a cowering crouch. 

Where is he? shouted Cabeswater and the ground bucked and sent Ronan sprawling, face-first, into the dirt. 

Where is who? he yelled back. He could feel something wet on his mouth and chin. 

The magician! cried the trees and the sky and the earth. Adam!

I don’t know! said Ronan. He should be at home!

He is gone, said Cabeswater. 

Gone, agreed the trees. Gone. 

Find him. 

Ronan woke with his heart crashing in his ears. He bolted to his feet, still half-mad and blind with sleep. It took him two tries to get his bedroom door open, then he staggered into the main room of Monmouth. Chainsaw flapped after him and circled his head like a death omen, shrieking. 

“Ronan!”

That was Gansey, jerking upright, a paintbrush in one hand and a cereal box in another. Reflected light washed his glasses white, and, for a moment, he looked eyeless. 

“Are you all right?”

Ronan stared at him. His ears rang. He panted, and Chainsaw settled on his shoulder. Her claws dug into his bare skin. He focused on that to calm himself down, the fierce and tiny points of pain. She was still squawking. 

“You’re bleeding,” said Gansey. Ronan touched his hand to his mouth, and his fingers came away bloody. He must have bit through his lip when he fell. 

“It’s Adam,” said Ronan. His hearing righted. He was here, in Monmouth, with Gansey. He spat blood into his palm. “He’s missing.”

“How do you know?” asked Gansey, after a beat. He tilted his head and the light slid off his glasses so Ronan could see his eyes, wide with concern.

“Cabeswater,” grunted Ronan. He went back to his room and dressed quickly.

“I’ll call him,” said Gansey, snapping automatically into competent Gansey, plan-making Gansey. He didn’t press. Somewhere along the line, they’d all gotten past the point of pressing when it came to Cabeswater. 

Ronan left his room and made for the door. Gansey was pulling on his shoes, his phone pressed between his shoulder and ear, his mouth twisted. Wherever Adam was, he wasn't picking up. He wouldn’t pick up. 

Gansey followed Ronan down the stairs of the factory, tripping as his shoes were only half on. Noah drifted behind them both, more vapor than boy. 

“He’s not picking up,” said Gansey, a moment later, as if Ronan hadn't already been able to tell. Gansey slid into the passenger seat of the BMW. “He’s probably asleep.”

But Gansey didn’t sound like he believed himself. Ronan certainly didn’t believe him. 

“Might as well check,” said Ronan. Adrenaline had shaken him like a dog with a new toy and then put him down. He felt ill, stuck in the muffling, foggy illness of shock. Where the fuck was Adam that Cabeswater was so freaked out?

It was black November, the bleakest part of fall. The bare trees looked like prison bars, and the orange glow of streetlights washed the affected charm of Henrietta’s streets to an institutional dullness. A few houses and shops had gamely put up Christmas lights, but fewer still had them on even at the meaningless hour of 4am. The effect was sporadic and mocking, an alien twinkle that passed in a blur. 

Ronan noticed this all as he drove with the same surreal detachment with which he had once smashed his fist into Robert Parrish’s face. It was a detachment that came up often with regards to Adam. At one point Ronan had thought maybe it was a defense mechanism for himself, but more and more it seemed like added protection for Adam. If he could keep himself calm enough, he could be deadly enough to help Adam. 

He pulled up to St. Agnes. Gansey scrambled out of the BMW first, barely waiting for Ronan to come to a full stop. It made the part of Ronan that was still aware of his emotions feel relieved. Gansey, even without Cabeswater’s panic fresh in mind, was nearly as worried as Ronan was. 

Noah flickered like a faulty light behind them as they started up the stairs. 

“He’s not up there,” he said sadly. 

“Then maybe there’s a fucking clue about where he is,” growled Ronan. He took the stairs two at a time, a spare key he’d dreamed months ago already in his hand.

Noah was right, though. Adam’s apartment was empty, a cold, waiting kind of empty that said its inhabitant hadn’t been there in some time. The bed was still made from that morning, and there was no sign of Adam’s backpack. Ronan’s stomach turned over. 

“He was in school,” he said. “I saw him.” 

He’d spent Economics with his head in the crook of his arm, doodling increasingly obscene pictures on Adam’s notes until Adam had stabbed the webbing between Ronan’s thumb and hand with his pen. Ronan could still see the dark point on his hand, reddened at the edges. 

“And then he went to work. The shop today,” said Gansey, visibly rattled. He paced the room, checking under the bed and in the closet like maybe Adam was hiding in one of them. 

“Let’s go wake up some psychics,” said Ronan, and he turned from the room. He knew instinctively there would be nothing else for them here. 

Gansey looked at him with trepidation. Neither Calla nor Blue would be easy to deal with at this hour. Maura would only be a little better. Ronan ignored the look. This was Adam. 

They were at Blue’s only moments later, and Maura answered the door as soon as Gansey had lifted his hand to knock. She wore a bathrobe and a weary expression. Ronan felt temporarily surprised, and then wondered at his surprise. If nothing else, the psychics at 300 Fox Way really were psychic.

“Come in,” she said. “Blue’s already awake. She’s making tea.” 

Ronan and Gansey exchanged glances and followed Maura inside. 

Blue stood in the kitchen, pouring boiling water into a series of mismatched mugs. She looked up as they walked in, and frowned at the space between Ronan and Gansey. 

“Where’s Adam?” she asked immediately. 

“And I thought you weren’t supposed to be psychic,” said Ronan. The joke felt hollow. 

“We don’t know,” said Gansey, earnest. He looked at Maura. “Can you figure out where he is?” 

“He’s not doing something for Cabeswater?” demanded Blue. Her hair stood on end. It made her look like a hedgehog. 

Ronan shrugged. “Cabeswater is how I know he's missing.” 

Blue was silent at that. The giant, baggy shirt she was wearing as pajamas made her seem very small. She was very small, but Ronan always seemed to forget that. Her presence in Ronan’s life had been outsized from the beginning, jealous of the time and attention she received from both Adam and Gansey. The jealousy had faded, but the strength of her presence remained. But right now she just looked small and worried. She looked how Ronan felt. 

“Blue,” said Maura. “Can you wake up Calla? I’ll need help, I think.” 

“There’s no need. I’m already awake. None of you fools are as quiet as you think you are,” said Calla, shuffling into the kitchen with a yawn. She was without her usual make up, but her nails flashed a cruel, pomegranate red that probably matched whatever lipstick she had been wearing earlier in the day. 

She darted an evil look at Ronan, probably on principle. Ronan didn’t take it personally, but he scowled back. Calla ignored the scowl and handed Maura her deck. 

“You do the reading,” she said. She looked back at Ronan. “And someone give that boy a washrag.” 

Maura nodded and sat at the table. The cards moved gracefully in her hands. Ronan sat down across from her and watched the cards move intensely. He barely noticed when Blue handed him a damp cloth to hold to his mouth and a mug of tea. If Maura was bothered by the intensity of his stare, she didn't comment on it. Finally, the cards came to a rest. 

She looked up. 

“You should each take one. You know Adam best.”

Ronan took his first - quickly, thoughtlessly, desperate for a lead that they could follow. He slapped the card down on the table: the Empress. Gansey chose next, leaning over Ronan’s chair and considering his options. He placed his card down carefully: the Moon. Calla snorted and muttered, “Of course,” under her breath. 

Blue chose last. She took the longest to decide. Ronan drummed his fingers in agitation, and Blue ignored him. 

“This one,” she said eventually. She smoothed it down next to Gansey’s. The Eight of Swords. 

They all three looked at the cards they had chosen: the Empress, the Moon, the Eight of Swords. 

Maura and Calla looked, too. Maura spread her hands wide and hovered them over the three cards. She closed her eyes and hummed. 

“He’s… underground,” said Maura, after a long moment. She sounded uncertain. Ronan could not deal with uncertainty. His fists clenched.

“Underground where?” he demanded. “Be more fucking specific!” 

“Don’t talk to her like that,” snapped Blue. But she frowned at her mother. “Do you mean like where you were? Or one of the caves in the area?” 

Maura pursed her lips and shook her head. She tapped the Empress. 

“Somewhere unnatural.” She looked at Ronan and said, “I’m sorry. I can’t be more specific.” 

“Then what use are you!” 

“Ronan!” said Gansey. 

He placed his hand on Ronan’s back and pushed him back down into his chair. Ronan hadn't realized he’d stood up. Calla and Blue both looked at him poisonously. Ronan ignored them. The jangling, immeasurable fear that Adam that was dead – that underground meant a grave – filled him. Surely Cabeswater would know that though. Surely Cabeswater would have been able to tell Ronan that much. 

He trembled, and Gansey, whose hand was still on him, looked at him with a concern that bordered on pity. Ronan badly wanted to hit him. 

“Is he at least alive?” 

Maura studied the cards again. 

“Yes,” she said slowly.

“You don’t sound sure,” said Blue. “Mom, what are you leaving out?” 

“I don’t know,” said Maura, with a helpless shrug. “There’s something odd going on. Something’s trying to fight me. I think…” She tapped the Eight of Swords. “He’s being held against his will. But he doesn’t realize it?” 

She looked even more puzzled. 

“It’s overly literal,” she muttered. Her shoulders dropped, defeated. “Persephone would be able to see more.” 

Calla placed her hands on Maura’s shoulders then. She leaned over her, looking at the cards. Maura’s hands came up and rested on Calla’s. Her eyes remained downcast. Ronan thought he could almost see the energy flow through them. He vibrated, desperate for more information than what they’d given him. 

“You’re looking for a crossroads. And a hill,” said Calla decisively. “That’s where you’ll find him.” 

There were lots of hills in Henrietta. And a lot of crossroads. Ronan stared at them, his eyes bugging. He half-rose to his feet, but Gansey moved his hands to Ronan’s shoulders and shoved him down again, so they seemed, briefly, like a mirror of Maura and Calla on the other side of the table. Blue stood anxiously between them. 

“Tylwyth Teg,” breathed Gansey. 

They all looked to him, Ronan half-twisted in his seat and craning his neck. 

“The fey folk,” said Gansey, and a familiar excitement had crept into his voice, the excitement of the chase, of discovery. Indiana Jones was only ever a layer or two deep when it came to Gansey. “ _Fairies_.”

Blue was the first to speak in the silence that followed. 

“Fairies?” she said, deeply skeptical. “Like Tinkerbell?” 

“No,” said Gansey, shaking his head. Then he paused, seeming to reconsider. “Well, similarly chaotic in nature, I suppose. But that’s about where the similarities end.” 

“Skip the fucking lecture, Gansey,” said Ronan. 

Gansey rubbed at his lower lip with his thumb. His eyes hooded. 

“The Tylwyth Teg, or the Fair Folk. They’re… wild. They kidnap children and people they find favor with. They’re not evil. At least, not in any of the sources I’ve come across. But they’re not good either. They’re usually led by a king or queen.” He looked up, wondrous. “I had no idea they were even real. I wonder if they were drawn here by the ley line.” 

Ronan did not feel Gansey’s wonder. Only a deepening dread and a kind of hysterical humor. Fairies. Adam had been kidnapped by fairies. If they got him back, Ronan was never going to let him live it down. 

“Do they give back the people they kidnapped?” asked Blue. 

Gansey shook his head. “Not unless they’re forced to.” 

“Then it’s settled,” said Blue. They all looked at her, and she jutted out her jaw. “We have to convince them to give him back.” 

Gansey glanced out the window. “We’ll have to go quickly. They’re usually only discoverable after sunset and before daybreak.” He looked thoughtful. “We’re lucky it’s almost dawn. I’ve heard twilight is the best time.”

Blue nodded. “I’ll get dressed,” she said.

“Excuse me?” said Maura, rising from her chair. 

Blue turned and stared hard at her mother. Tension pulled thick between the two woman. 

“If you think for one moment I’m going to let Adam – ”

“If you think for one moment,” bellowed Maura, “I’m going to let _you_ go chasing God-knows-what – ”

“I’ll leave anyway!” shouted Blue. “You can’t stop me! Not after you left!”

Maura’s eyes went very dark. Calla placed her hand on Maura’s shoulder. 

“Someone needs to look after these idiots,” said Calla, pointing her chin at Gansey and Ronan. “Maura, we’ll do what we can to help from here.” 

Maura turned away from them, and Calla, Ronan was surprised to see, drew her into a hug. Over Maura’s shoulder, Calla nodded at Blue, and Blue flew up the stairs to her room. Gansey stared after her, concerned and longing. Ronan gave him the kindness of pretending not to notice. He was on his feet, too busy pacing now anyway. Every moment that went by was another moment longer Adam was missing. 

But Blue was quick, down a moment later 

“Okay,” said Blue. “Let’s go.”

“Wait,” said a voice. 

They all looked up. The Gray Man stood in the entry way to the kitchen. He had clearly been asleep, and it was odd to see him in his pajamas, his hair mussed. He didn't look like a killer, and that made Ronan feel very cold. 

Blue’s eyes flickered between the Gray Man and her mother and then the Gray Man and Ronan. She moved slightly, just enough that if Ronan decided to rush the Gray Man, he would have to bowl Blue over first. 

He considered it. Blue wasn't much of an obstacle. 

“Yes?” said Maura. Her cheeks were red. 

“You’re going to need protection,” he said to Ronan and Gansey and Blue. He walked past Blue, to Ronan, and held out his hand. A small, dull gray knife was balanced on his palm. 

“It’s pure iron,” said the Gray Man. He kept his hand held out. He looked at Ronan like Ronan might accept it as a peace offering or apology. “You’ll need it if you’re going up against the Court.” 

The way he said Court made Ronan think he’d had some dealings with them before. He didn’t take the knife. He didn't want help from his father’s killer, even if the Gray Man had claimed to be no more than a knife himself. Gansey moved closer to stand by Ronan, though whether it was to support Ronan or to keep him from doing anything stupid, Ronan couldn’t be sure. With Gansey, the two were often the same thing anyway. 

“You’ve met them?” said Ronan.

The Gray Man nodded. “We’ve had dealings. I don’t know if I’ve met this set, but I know their kind. Iron's the only thing that gives them any pause.” 

“All right,” said Ronan. He stuck his hands into his pockets. His stomach churned with guilt. What if he needed the knife to save Adam? “Thanks for the advice, I guess.” 

“Oh, _honestly_ ,” said Blue. She took the knife from the Gray Man’s hand. “You're both ridiculous.” 

The Gray Man looked at Blue gravely. “Be careful,” he told her. 

*

The moon was still a white thumbprint on the sky when they left 300 Fox Way, but just barely. Dawn was lifting its gray skirts to the east. 

“We’ll have to find it quickly if we want to get inside before dawn,” said Gansey. He rubbed at his lower lip once more and then sighed loudly. “Do what you must, Ronan.” 

Ronan nodded and cranked the driver’s seat back. He closed his eyes and folded his arms across his chest. It took him only a moment to fall asleep. He was getting good at dropping in and out of sleep, which was probably not promising for his long term mental health. But Ronan could never bring himself to care. 

Cabeswater was as angry and frantic as it had been earlier in the night. It wanted to know why he was back so quickly. Without Adam. 

We know who has him! shouted Ronan, as a branch of a nearby tree whistled past his shoulder. We just don’t know where to find them.

The forest stilled, a palpable sense of expectation filled it. Ronan felt suddenly like he was standing on a stage, speaking to an audience so large he couldn't even make out their individual faces.

He took a deep breath. He felt ridiculous. But he was, he reminded himself, talking to a forest. 

Fairies, he said. Fairies have Adam. 

Cabeswater stilled, then all at once broke into a whispering mass. Ronan couldn’t understand the whispers, but he sensed an edge of agitation. 

Do you know how to find them? demanded Ronan. We can’t do all the fucking work!

The whispering stopped. And then the forest said to him, almost disdainful. 

Take a map, Greywaren.

His eyes snapped open. 

“West,” he said, certain. There was a map in his lap, and he shoved it at Gansey. “Navigate for me.” 

He started the car and slammed on the gas. 

Gansey directed him from the passenger seat. They drove with thrilling speed. They were out of Henrietta, they were screaming down the backroads, the country dead around them. 

“Turn here!” said Gansey. 

Ronan broke hard left. The moon was starting to dip below the horizon. Ahead of them, he saw a crossroads, and, swelling behind it, a hill. 

“Straight into the hill,” said Gansey, with a strangled kind of voice. Blue and Noah made matching dismayed noises in the back seat. 

Ronan drove off the road. He slowed as he drove towards the hill, went even slower because of the damp and sucking ground. There was no obvious way in, but the map was insistent. Finally, he slowed to almost a crawl. The front wheels of the BMW began to climb. 

“Nothing’s happening,” said Blue. 

Ronan turned in his seat to growl at her. 

“Do you have a better – ”

But before he could finish speaking, the ground gave away, crumbling like a cliff of wet sand, and for a terrible, lurching moment, they fell. 

They landed with a tremendous noise. Ronan’s head whipped forward and hit the steering wheel before snapping back. Next to him, Gansey narrowly avoided a similar fate. Earth fell in chunks around them, thunking onto the roof and trunk of the BMW. The whole car juddered for a few seconds, and then went still. Ronan’s head rang with pain. 

He took a deep breath and looked at Gansey, who had already turned in his seat and was checking on Blue. 

“I’m fine. Noah protected me,” hissed Blue, slapping at Gansey. “I'm concerned that this car apparently doesn’t have airbags!”

Ronan ignored her and peered out the window. There was nothing but darkness on all sides of them - a thick, pressing, hungry dark.

Ronan started the BMW up to try the headlights, but it wouldn’t start. It had landed dead. Ronan’s stomach sank. If it were the Pig, that would be expected. But the BMW always started. He tried again. 

Gansey seemed to realize something was wrong, because his attention was on Ronan once more.

“Ronan, what’s going on?” 

“What does it look like is going on?” snapped Ronan. He slammed his fist on the dashboard in frustration. 

“Oh. Uh. Uh oh,” said Noah. It didn’t sound like he was talking about the car. 

He disappeared. And then, the doors were yanked open.

There were hands on Ronan before he had time to react. He fought against them, but they were implacably strong. And he couldn't even see who had grabbed him. He was dragged roughly from the driver’s seat. Dimly, he was aware that Gansey and Blue were also being dragged. They both struggled – Blue kicking and scratching like a wildcat. But he couldn’t see who was attacking them either. 

He hit the ground and was then pulled to his feet and shoved forward. He found his balance and took a wild swing in the dark. He felt his fist connect with satisfying strength. Pain flared in his knuckles, the pain of a hard hit. Whatever he struck was unfazed. Unseen hands grabbed him by the shirt and flung him forward. He skidded to his knees, ripping his jeans. He ignored the pain and moved quickly back to his feet. He struck out once more, but hit nothing this time. Someone yanked him by the back of his collar and he staggered backwards, arms wheeling to keep his balance. 

He could tell he was being herded away from the car. They all were – Blue, despite her valor, was more or less being carried away. He kept being shoved; he was never able to get more than two steps back in the direction towards the car before he was forced back even more steps. 

He stumbled forward once more, staying on his feet but just barely. 

Torches burst into flame, bright and sudden as lightning, and, like the afterglow of lightning that stays behind the eyes, he could now see their captors. He blinked, and their forms became solid, not just a bright blur. There were dozens of them. They were dressed in fur and feathers and leaves and stone, and all stood in a rough semi-circle in a dark, earthen room that smelled like damp stone and running water. They were tall and beautiful, but it was an alien beauty. An alien beauty that reminded Ronan of Adam - high and fine-boned and translucent. The flickering light from the torches only made them eerier. It deepened the shadows of their eyes and turned their faces orange and red. The six nearest Ronan and Blue and Gansey were the ones who must have pulled the three of them from the car. They each were holding a long wooden spear topped with a wicked point of black stone. 

But it wasn't Ronan’s immediate captors that commanded his attention. It was the woman seated on a podium of raised earth and ivy ten feet in front of him.

She was slim and straight-backed. Her eyes were black and large, like Persephone’s, or like Ronan’s dream urchin, and she was dressed in a gown with the pearly gray color and eerie movement of drifting fog. Her hair, long and flame-colored, was topped by a crown of large, silvery-white flowers. They were not the kind of flowers you would find in Henrietta in November. They were the kind of flowers you would find in a dream. 

She sat on a throne of carved horn and white wood, inlaid with moonstone and silver. Dark, creeping vines seemed to climb up the back of the throne and spill over the top of it. One tendril fell across the woman's shoulder and a green hand of ivy opened against her collarbone and throat.

At her feet, lounging on the podium unnoticed in the long moment it to comprehend her, was Adam. 

Adam was barefoot but unhurt. He was still in the ripped jeans he must have gone to work in, but he was also wearing a green, billowy shirt, open at the throat, of the kind a nerd at a Renaissance Fair would wear. It was definitely not a shirt Adam actually owned. Ronan would know. 

"Adam!" said Ronan, and he jerked forward, but the guard dragged him back.

Adam turned his face towards Ronan, but his look was disinterested, alien. The long, fine lines of his face seemed finer. He turned his face away. 

"What did you do to him?" demanded Blue.

The queen regarded the three of them with bemusement. She inclined her head at Gansey. 

"Ill met by moonlight, Raven King," she said. 

Her voice had the power and music of an orchestra. Beneath his anger, something tugged at Ronan to adore and obey that voice. His body trembled to kneel. He overrode it. 

"Oh, wow, you know Shakespeare. Good for you,” snarled Ronan. “Answer Blue's goddamn question."

The queen laughed, leaves in the wind and water rushing over rocks and red birds at dawn. She turned her radiant face and smiled at Ronan. It was a smile that made his chest ache. It was a smile like starlight, as cold and as distant and as beautiful.

“And you, Greywaren. Your father was dearly known to this court. We were disheartened to learn of his death." 

“And you.” She looked at Blue, and Blue looked back, her eyes bright and hard and set. Ronan was startled to see her luminosity was equal to the queen’s. A mirror, he remembered. Even here, Blue reflected. “Blue, was it?”

Her lips curved dangerously as she said Blue's name. Ronan tensed, realizing that it had been dumb to give up Blue's name so easily. He remembered Niall once telling him, "Never give your real name to someone who can use it against you." Like most of his father's advice that didn’t involve boxing, it had been cryptic, useful only after the fact.

“And me,” agreed Blue. She put one hand in her pocket. “We’d like our friend back if you don’t mind.” 

The queen’s eyes rested on Blue’s hidden hand. She frowned. 

“What do you have?” she asked. “Show me.” 

Blue’s shoulders went straight and still. 

“Come closer and I will,” she said. 

Ronan whistled his approval. Gansey looked pained. 

“Be careful, Jane,” he said quietly.

The queen nodded at the guard nearest Blue. He stepped forward and pulled her hand from her pocket. She cried out in pain, her arm twisted back. Gansey and Ronan both stepped towards her but were yanked back. The guard reached into Blue’s pocket. 

He screamed. It was the kind of scream Ronan associated with fighting cats. He yanked his hand away. It looked blistered, and it seemed as if smoke were rising from the wound. The knife fell from Blue’s pocket. On the ground, it looked pathetically small. But the guard was still gasping in pain, and all he had done was touch it. 

“Iron?” cried the queen, and for a second, her face was hideous. Ronan could see her skull and where her eyes should have been were only dark hollows. 

Two guards sprang forward and grabbed Blue.

“Let go of her!” shouted Gansey, his chivalry automatic. He leapt to wrestle with one of the guards and was knocked down immediately. Ronan ran to his aid, but several more guards appeared from nowhere, and one slammed his chest with the butt of his spear. He toppled over, breathless. 

Adam watched this all with a mild, disinterested expression. The queen stroked his face, and he tilted it up towards her, like an affectionate cat. Ronan burned with rage and humiliation. 

“No,” said the queen softly. Her hand fell from Adam’s face, and she looked at the three of them, her expression suddenly sharp. “I have seen what Glendower and his wars cost. You children are dealing with power you can neither comprehend nor control. It is kinder for us all if I keep you here as my guests. By the time you leave, the danger will have passed.” 

“No!” shouted Gansey, outraged. “You can’t hold us prisoner! We’re not your – ”

But another fairy, her dress shimmering gray and fish-scaled, had lifted a goblet to his open mouth and poured its contents down his throat. Gansey choked on it, his face turning red. Blue screamed and reached for him. But then Gansey’s face turned soft, peaceful. His glare faded to a serene, cow-like gaze. 

The guards released him. He merely stood, blinking amiably. Ronan felt an ugly coldness spread through him. Gansey wore many masks, and some of those masks were lies, but he had never seen a Gansey like this, a Gansey whose mind was still. 

“Gansey?” said Blue, voice quavering. “Are you all right?” 

Gansey didn't respond. He looked as calm as Adam. One of the guards grabbed Blue by her hair and forced her head back. She shouted in dismay, but already another fairy was at her side, tipping dark liquid down her throat as well. 

Ronan lunged; his own guards had slackened their grip while they watched the drama with Blue and Gansey unfold. But he was caught by the throat and yanked back, his shoulders hit the floor, and for the second time in minutes, the breath left his body. 

By the time he got it back, Blue was as still and demure as a spring sapling, and the queen stood above Ronan. He glared up at her. 

“I am going to rip your fucking wings off, you glorified housefly,” he said. The fact that she didn’t have visible wings seemed a moot point. She was a fairy. She had them somewhere. 

The queen placed her foot on his head and forced his face back down into the dirt. 

“No,” she said. She sounded sad. “I don’t think you will. But I can’t have you eat or drink either. You’ll be no good to me like that.” 

And then something struck Ronan’s temple, and all was black.


	2. The Second Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ten days counts as a weekish, right? Anyway - enjoy!

“Ronan. Ronan.”

Someone shook Ronan’s shoulder. He groaned and pulled away, consciousness muddling back into him. His mouth and throat were dry, and he tasted blood. Pain encased his head like a helmet, pulsing from his forehead where he'd struck the steering wheel and from the back of his skull, where he'd been struck. 

He hadn't dreamed. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept without dreaming. The thought lurched him into full wakefulness, and he opened his eyes with a start. His vision was blurred, and two Adams, faces wrinkled with identical concern, hung above him, ghostly pale. The moon and its reflection, Ronan thought, for a stupid, stultifying moment. Then the two Adams swung and crashed together, so that there was only one Adam, crouched and worried. 

"You better not have a concussion," said the single Adam. He was still wearing the stupid green shirt. It gaped open at the front and Ronan could make out the sharp lines of his collarbones. 

“You look like an idiot,” said Ronan, and then he sat up and immediately swore, his head ringing with pain at the movement. He didn’t think he had a concussion. He’d been punched enough times in the head that he figured he would know what one felt like. And who knew – maybe Niall Lynch had dreamed for his sons concussion-proof skulls. 

Adam sat back, his expression dry. 

“Oh, good. You’re totally normal.” 

"Your concern is fucking touching," said Ronan. 

Adam rolled his eyes, but tactfully did not respond. He held up a bowl filled with liquid.

"Here," he said. "It's water."

Ronan looked at the bowl. It was too dark to tell what was really in it, but the liquid didn't have the opacity of whatever had been forced down Blue and Gansey's throats. Still...

"Do you think I'm stupid? There's no way I'm drinking that."

“Do you really want me to answer that?” snapped Adam. He glanced over his shoulder and then looked back at Ronan. “But whatever. We don’t have time to argue. They’re all outside.” 

He stood up, leaving the bowl on the ground, and offered Ronan his hand. Ronan ignored it and pulled himself up unsteadily on the wall, which was not particularly easy. The room was really a small cell off what looked like a hallway, carved out of the living earth. The three walls were wet, rippling black rock and moss clung to them. A woven mat of reeds covered the floor and small pinpricks of yellow light bobbed against the ceiling, like permanently lit up fireflies. A blanket that looked like it was sewn together from small, scarlet leaves lay crumpled on the ground.

Ronan took it all in quietly, and then he glared at Adam, trying to tell if he was still a robot.

“How the fuck do I know that’s really you?” he demanded. 

“You don’t, but what choice do you have?” said Adam. He looked over his shoulder again. The hallway seemed to be deserted and Ronan could hear no noise coming from it, but fairies could probably be pretty quiet when they wanted to. 

“Then how did you wake up? You were a fucking zombie back there.” 

Adam was quiet, then he said, “Watching you all fight for me. And watching you all get hurt. I… snapped out of it. But I couldn’t show it just then. It wouldn’t have done any good.”

He was keeping something back from Ronan. Ronan could spot a liar, and he knew all Adam’s tells. But he didn’t think Adam was lying about being Adam. They both regarded each other warily, and it reminded Ronan of when they had first known each other, when they had each been Gansey’s friend and jealous of the other’s favor with him. It had taken a long time for them to trust each other. And even now, especially now, it felt like the kind of trust you gave a healing ankle. It might hold you, or it might collapse beneath your weight. 

“God, you look feral,” said Adam, breaking the silence. “What happened to your mouth?” 

“I fell,” said Ronan. It must look worse now, dark earth caught in it and smeared on his face. 

Adam laughed, a small, helpless, hysterical thing. He lifted one hand and seemed about to reach towards Ronan’s face, but then snatched them back. 

“Where are Blue and Gansey?” asked Ronan. 

“Outside,” said Adam. “With everyone else.” 

With that, knowing Ronan would have no choice but to follow, he turned and went into the hallway. And Ronan followed. The walls were smoother here than they were in the room where Ronan had been kept. But they were not much smoother, and the pale, pulsating light supplied by the bobbing lights suggested strange, frightening faces in the crags and shadows of the walls. Ronan’s neck prickled. He felt like they were being watched. 

Finally, they reached the throne room. The queen’s throne sat empty. The ivy covering the back waved gently in a breeze that flowed down from a spiral staircase of white stone. 

The staircase had definitely not been there before. Standing at the base of it, Ronan could hear faint music and laughter and feel the cold, metallic touch of a late fall night. 

“Blue and Gansey are up there,” said Adam, his face turned up. 

Ronan looked at him. “So what’s the plan? We find them and run?” 

“Do you have a better idea?” 

Ronan turned.

“Well the fucking BMW is right over – ” He frowned. There were no exits from the throne room except for the stairs ahead of them. Even the hallway he and Adam had walked down was gone. 

Adam looked at him bitterly. 

“That happens. It was all the luck I could ask for to find you,” he said. “But, I do have one thing that could help.” 

He reached into the waistband of his jeans and pulled out the Gray Man’s knife. 

“They couldn’t touch it,” he said, to Ronan’s wide eyes. “And it doesn’t seem like any of their magic affects it either.” 

“Great,” said Ronan, remembering the rock-tipped spears several of the fairies had carried. “We’ll fight them off with a pocket knife.” 

But he did feel a little better. He took the knife from Adam. 

“Whatever. I’ll go first.” 

Adam made a disgruntled noise of protest, but Ronan was already climbing up the stairs. He took them quickly. Blue and Gansey were up there. As he climbed, and he seemed to climb for a much longer time than the steps should have taken, the music bloomed and bellowed. 

If you had asked Ronan a day ago what fairy music sounded like, he would have laughed at you. But if he had bothered to think about it later, he would have thought it probably had a lot of flutes and high-pitched, 1950s Disney princess singing. 

It definitely wouldn't have been what he heard, which was a wild, driving music, full of wailing pipes and incessant drums. It was demanding, frenzied. It got inside your bones and shook them.

It was the kind of music his father had listened to.

It was a kind of music, he realized, that he had heard before. The memory unburied itself suddenly. He had been very young, maybe not even in school yet, and Niall had told his family to stay inside for the evening. Ronan remembered being angry about this. He’d wanted to go outside and catch frogs, so it must have been warm. But Niall had made him promise to stay in, so he had stayed in, but he had snuck away from Aurora and Declan and gone to the highest room in the house and pried open the window. 

Strange, tall people wearing masks were streaming into the Barns. They laughed loudly and lit bonfires and the music that accompanied them was wild and intoxicating. Ronan had nearly fallen out the window trying to reach for it. The strangers had danced and spun and leapt over the fires in pairs. Ronan could see his father among them, though his father, who had always to Ronan had the heft and bearing of Superman, looked small and meager in comparison. They all danced and spun and leapt and laughed for a very long time. 

Niall found him asleep beneath the window the next morning and picked him up. There were feathers and flowers in his hair and bright stones in his pockets, though none of these things were unusual for Niall Lynch. And when Ronan told him what he had seen from the window, Niall told him it sounded like a very wonderful dream. 

But it hadn't been a dream. 

Finally, Ronan reached the top of the stairs, Adam a breath behind him. As soon as they stopped off, the staircase seemed to recede back and the ground covered seamlessly where it had been. But neither noticed. 

They were in a clearing in a forest. Ronan breathed in sharply. They had not been near a forest when they’d driven into the court, and instinctively, he knew this was not Cabeswater. Spectral trees massed the clearing at every side, and in the center of the clearing was a great, blazing bonfire. It was too high for anyone to jump over, unless, Ronan thought, they were a pole vaulter with no fear of flame. Figures danced on every side, whirling and stamping. They were strange, monstrous looking figures. They had horns and wings and beaks and claws and seemed to grow and shift in length and width. Fire and movement made them ever-shifting and uncountable. Just watching them made Ronan dizzy. 

One of the figures broke from the ring of dancers and ran towards them. Another figure broke from the ring as well and seemed to chase the first, who shrieked with laughter and ran more quickly. Ronan tightened his grip on the knife. 

“Ronan! It’s Blue!” shouted Adam, and he grabbed Ronan’s shoulder and pulled him roughly aside. Blue shot past them both, her laughter trailing behind. She had lost her coat and shoes, but seemed unbothered. Ronan moved to pursue, but then the second runner sprinted past, nearly knocking Ronan to the ground. Even at speed, Ronan made out a raven mask and cloak of long black feathers. 

The cloaked figure turned as it chased Blue, and Ronan realized the figure was wearing a polo shirt and jeans. 

“Gansey,” said Ronan incredulously. 

“Well, at least we know where they are,” said Adam. 

“Yeah,” said Ronan, keeping his eyes on Gansey and Blue. They darted in and out of the trees on the edge of the clearing, kicking up sprays of fallen leaves as they did so. It didn’t seem like anyone else was watching them, or even that anyone had noticed Adam and Ronan’s sudden appearance. 

“Do you think,” asked Ronan, “if we carried Blue off, Gansey would follow?”

“We don’t have any better ideas.” 

Coming from Adam, it was a ringing endorsement. They both looked at each other and nodded, and then together, bolted towards the screen of trees. Adam took Gansey out with a sliding tackle to his knees, and Gansey went down with a surprisingly undignified shout. Blue, several yards ahead, stopped and turned at Gansey’s yell. 

“What are you doing?” she shouted at Adam. “Let go of him!” 

Ronan grabbed her. He heaved her over his shoulder – it was difficult. She kicked and screamed and bit and tried to fling herself bodily away. Ronan kept his arms tightly around her. It was an ugly mirror of when Ronan had held her by the lake in the caves. They had both been afraid then, but Ronan had been able to comfort Blue, and she had trusted him. And when she had walked off into the darkness alone, he had worried she wouldn't return. 

Now, Blue didn't know him at all. Whatever her strain of magic, it wasn’t enough to repel the fairies’ thrall. They were far outside the realm of what they knew, and the realm of what they knew was already vast. 

“Unhand her, fiend!” shouted Gansey. Ronan looked at him; Adam was sitting on Gansey’s chest, but Gansey was struggling gamely to throw him off. Gansey was still in the mask and cloak, but the mask had been knocked askew and now covered one of his eyes. 

“I can’t believe he’s _more_ pompous like this,” complained Adam. 

Ronan snorted and carried Blue off. She was light, but she fought him every step. 

He heard Gansey rushing toward him, but ignored it, and a second later, heard another yelp and crash as Adam once more tackled Gansey from behind. He kept moving forward, and a few minutes later, the drama repeated itself and Adam once again knocked Gansey to the ground. 

They continued like that – Ronan struggling to carry a fighting Blue, and Adam periodically releasing and then tackling Gansey, as Gansey, like a helpless, jerky puppet, tried to rescue Blue. It didn’t seem to matter how far they got from the fairy’s camp; the enchantment wouldn't lift. The forest got darker and denser around them. Branches whipped at them, and Blue whimpered in pain several times as they struck her. Ronan crouched low, trying to keep her out of harm’s way, but the trees were crowding thick. It seemed at times that it was hands rather than branches that plucked at Ronan’s sleeves and tore at his jeans. Once, he thought he heard laughter. But it must have been paranoia. His ears twitched and strained at every noise. 

The ground was slippery with damp leaves and fractured with thick, sinuous roots. Ronan had to slow so he wouldn’t trip and send both him and Blue sprawling. The moon, a hair from full and high above, gave just enough gray light to let him pick his tenuous way. 

Behind him, he could hear both Adam and Gansey swearing as they battled with the trees as well. They had hours ahead of them, but either they would reach the edge of the forest or they would make it to dawn. Either, Ronan hoped, would return Blue and Gansey to normal.

They did not stop. It didn’t occur to Ronan to stop. Pain limited him. His head was a vise and his vision gray. And he was thirsty. His tongue felt like it was swelling. He regretted not taking up Adam on his offer of water. It was getting colder, too, a brittle, late fall cold, the kind of cold that meant leaves frosted to glass and the smell of woodsmoke on the wind. He couldn’t imagine how Adam felt without shoes and in only his thin shirt. At least all the sprinting was probably keeping him warm.

“Ronan,” called Adam eventually. He sounded out-of-breath. “I can’t keep this up. And Gansey’s not slowing down.” 

“Here,” said Ronan, turning. Gansey and Adam were much closer than they had been previously. Gansey was running a little further ahead of Adam each time. Ronan, quickly so he couldn’t give Blue the chance to escape, reached into his jeans and then tossed the Gray Man’s knife towards Adam. It landed near Gansey’s arm, but Adam snatched it before Gansey could. 

He looked at it with a frown, and then glared unhappily at Ronan. 

“This is a terrible idea,” he said. 

He got off Gansey slowly. Gansey scrambled to his feet and lurched towards Ronan, but Adam got between them, the knife outstretched. Gansey shied away from it like the fairies had done, his mouth bared in a snarl beneath his mask. This was not like Gansey at all, and that unsettled Ronan most of all. Gansey was as fully himself as Niall had been fully Niall. Both were mythic-hero figures in Ronan’s mind. It was bad enough to see the void behind Noah’s eyes or Cabeswater behind Adam’s, but seeing Gansey like this – half-wild, unrecognizing, inhuman – was almost like his father’s death again. It should have been impossible.

“We should get going,” said Adam softly. He was holding the knife awkwardly, and if it had been pointed at Ronan, he would have been able to get it from Adam in an instant. If Gansey were in his right mind, he would be too. But it didn’t matter. Both Adam and Ronan knew if it came down to it, neither of them could actually hurt Gansey or Blue. 

They continued their march. The moon was still high, and Ronan had no clue how long they’d traveled. It seemed like it should be close to dawn by now. Blue struggled less and less, though Ronan had the sense it was less out of exhaustion and more because she was biding her time. Ronan didn’t care. It made things easier. His muscles were starting to strain and dull from carrying her. 

And then, they stumbled through several denuded bushes of thin whipping branches and past several black oaks and found themselves once more at the clearing. The bonfire was taller, the dancers wilder. Ronan could only assume magic was the reason they hadn’t seen the light nor smelled the smoke nor heard the music and laughter. 

“No,” he said. He dropped Blue gracelessly, but she immediately sprang to her feet and kicked him in the shin.

“Fuck!” shouted Ronan. He tried to shove Blue away, but she had already darted off, headed back in the direction of the blaze. “ _Fuck_!” 

Adam let go of Gansey, and Gansey ran off, too, after Blue. They didn’t look back. They ran as if they hadn’t just spent half the night being dragged through the woods. 

Adam let the knife drop and sank to the ground in horror. 

“We didn’t circle back,” he said. His eyes and mouth were wide Os. He had the look of someone who has run his fastest race only to trip at the final hurdle. The music throbbed all around them. It seemed to be getting louder. Ronan’s foot tapped. 

“It’s some fucking Cabeswater shit,” said Ronan. He ran his hand over his head. He felt a sinking, unfamiliar helplessness. He and Adam were practically gods, but here, they couldn't even save themselves, let alone their friends.

“Do you think these trees speak Latin, too?” asked Adam quietly.

“Sure. Or Greek. Or Akkadian. Or fucking _Aztec_.” 

“The Aztec language wasn’t called Aztec,” said Adam. He leaned his shoulder against the nearest tree. His other shoulder seemed to be moving in tune with the music. He was facing the fire, and the red and golden light made him look like he was part-fire himself. There was a cut on his cheek, and it bled slightly. 

Ronan kicked him, and then slumped back against a nearby tree.

“Great. Glad we fucking established that. You’re a fucking nightmare, Parrish.”

“Stop cursing at me. It’s not my fault you don’t pay attention in class.” 

Ronan started to laugh hysterically. He covered his face with his hands. 

“We really having this argument now?” 

“It’s not like we have anything better to do.” 

Ronan dropped his hands and made a shanking motion. He stared out at the dancers. He felt like he had when he’d been struggling with insomnia after Niall’s death – deranged, the world gone stretchy and ungraspable. There seemed to be more dancers, he thought, or their shadows were denser. 

“We could always stab our way out.” 

Adam ignored the suggestion. He put his hand to the tree and looked up. His mouth moved soundlessly. 

“What are you saying?” asked Ronan. 

Adam stood up. He brushed dirt and leaf detritus from his jeans. There was a small leaf caught in his hair, probably from their aborted escape attempt. Ronan eyed it. 

“I was asking for help,” said Adam with a shrug. “Maybe this forest knows Cabeswater. Or something.”

“Great,” said Ronan. “Praying. Real helpful.” 

“If Jesus wants to send us a chariot of fire, I wouldn’t say no to that either.” 

“That’s not how it works,” snapped Ronan, scowling. His head still hurt, and now he had a litany of other injuries to add to it. He just wanted to close his eyes and sink into the music or fall asleep. 

Adam laughed, nearly as hysterically as Ronan just had. 

“Now we’re arguing about theology. This is perfect. We’ve been kidnapped by _fairies_ , and now I’m arguing abou theology with _Ronan Lynch_.” 

“Can you think of anyone better?” 

Adam cocked his head, as if giving the question serious consideration. 

“Noah would be worth talking to. He might actually know something.” Adam’s eyes widened. “Noah!” he cried. “Where is Noah?” 

Ronan was surprised he hadn’t thought of Noah. But then, it was increasingly hard to remember Noah nowadays. He was like a fact you had once known very well, and then, when it was the answer to a crossword puzzle clue, found you couldn’t remember it at all. There was a blank place in Ronan’s mind where Noah should have been. 

“He left,” said Ronan slowly. “When we drove in, right before those fuckers grabbed us.” 

“Maybe he’s still around,” said Adam with frantic hope. He whipped his head around, as if Noah might be hiding behind a nearby tree. And he could be. It wouldn’t have been out of character for Noah. 

“Noah,” croaked Ronan, and he stared hard at a particularly deep shadow. “Wherever you are, now would be a great time to help out.”

He wasn’t sure how helpful Noah would be. It wasn’t like he could burst in on the Pig with an ore of iron in the back. But even having another, non-whammied person would be a boon. 

They waited. The wind got louder and the branches of the trees clacked, and the smoke continued to rise straight above the revelers, unbothered by physical reality. The music wailed and pounded and pulled at them. It was a music that reverberated through Ronan’s bones and through his childhood. 

Noah didn't appear. 

“Well, wherever the hell he is, I hope he’s feeding Chainsaw.”

Adam barked a laugh. He didn’t seem amused. 

“Maybe you could take a nap,” he suggested. “Bring back some more knives and something we can knock Blue and Gansey over the head with.”

“Sure,” said Ronan. He settled down against a tree and closed his eyes. The bark was rough against his back, and his hands and nose were cold. His head pounded, in rhythm with the music. 

He was so thirsty. And the music was getting louder. It drove out his thoughts, banished sleep, and dancers seemed to skip and whirl across his eyelids, their shapes dark and distorted. He was tired and his body ached, but he was beyond exhaustion and his mind wouldn’t let him rest. It was too much. There was too much. 

He opened his eyes. Adam stood a few feet away, watching him closely. He blushed and looked away when he realized Ronan was looking back at him. And, if it had been any time else, Ronan might have taken that moment and examined it closely. But there was no time now. 

“Fuck it,” he said.

He took the knife from the forest floor where Adam had dropped it and marched towards the bonfire.

“What the hell are you doing?” said Adam. He grabbed Ronan’s shoulder and tried to tug him back, but Ronan shouldered him off.

“Time for Plan Shank,” said Ronan. 

Adam yanked him back by the collar of his shirt, choking Ronan and knocking him off his balance. 

“You’re going to get yourself killed!” hissed Adam. 

Ronan broke away. 

“They don’t want to kill me. They think I’ll be useful,” he said confidently. 

“That doesn’t mean they won’t kill you. Oh my God, _Ronan_.” 

Ronan ignored him. If nothing else, he wanted to make the damn thumping, wailing, frantic music stop. It had clawed up inside him, and both it and his anger made him step closer to the revelers. Several of them were singing now, a wordless, moaning singing that made Ronan shiver compulsively. He raised his knife uncertainly at the edge of the ring. He couldn’t bring himself to start. 

A dancer reared out from the others and grabbed him by his other arm and pulled him into the circle. Ronan cursed and slashed out with the knife, but the dancer skipped away. He was tall and slender, and wore only a loose piece of cloth around his hips. The muscles of his chest and stomach shifted with shadow and light. 

“Fuck you,” he said, and he slashed again. 

The space around him widened, as the dancers realized who he was and what he had. But they didn’t have the fear they’d had in the court below. They seemed fearless now, not brave, but like they were too mad to care. They surrounded him, jeering, and laughing, a mass of perpetual, churning motion. Two darted forward, each wearing a horned mask, and caught him by an arm and spun him. He staggered when they let go, dropping to one knee. He jabbed forward with his knife, but his assailants had bled back into the mob around him. Another leapt forward, straight at Ronan, and before Ronan could react, landed a foot on Ronan’s shoulder and flipped over him. The force numbed Ronan’s arm and he dropped the knife. He scrambled for it, but the mob was upon him at once. He was hauled to his feet and dragged forward, closer to the fire. He was lightheaded, dizzy, and he lashed out with feet and fists, but connected with nothing. Over his own panting breath and the others’ laughter, he could hear Adam shouting his name frantically – _Ronan! Ronan! Ronan!_

Finally, they released him. He stumbled forward a few feet, gasping for air, and whirled, fists up, looking for someone to fight. A member of the crowd peeled off and stood before him, grinning. It was the first dancer, who had first grabbed Ronan and brought him into the circle. 

The dancer spun Ronan around, and Ronan lashed out immediately with his fists. But another dancer was there and grabbed Ronan’s arm. He spun Ronan, too, into the arms of the first dancer. Ronan howled, and slammed his elbow back, but met only air. He turned on one foot, fists raised again. The first dancer smiled at him. The upper half of his face was covered with a mask and Ronan could make out only the white of teeth, the black glitter of his eyes. 

Ronan swung, and the dancer skipped away. Then, he came back with a jab of his own. Ronan twisted back to avoid it. He aimed an uppercut at the dancer’s jaw, but the dancer laughed and moved lightly to the side. He was quicker than Declan, quicker than Niall, and Ronan couldn't land a hit on him. But he didn’t seem interested in landing a hit on Ronan either. He telescoped his hits, and it was easy for Ronan to skip aside or back, to duck and weave. And then Ronan realized they weren't fighting; he was being tricked into dancing, their movements in rough harmony with the music. He tried to stop. The music pulsed. He could feel it through the forest floor. His whole body ached to move with it, and he was tired. He couldn’t fight everyone.

Nearby, he could see Adam being spun between a woman and a man. He didn’t know if Adam had tried to fight his way to Ronan or if he had just been dragged in as well. But he seemed just as helpless, flailing and tripping over himself. The woman laughed, exposing her long, slender neck, and she pulled Adam’s head back by the hair and pressed her mouth to the corner of his jaw. Ronan cursed his fury and left his own foes, attempting to push his way to Adam. 

But there were too many bodies in the way, and yet again Ronan was pulled and pushed and spun. He was close to retching with dizziness, and by the time he made it to Adam, Adam stood alone. He held a wineskin in his hands and his mouth was red. He looked quizzical but he smiled as he looked up and met Ronan’s eyes. 

“Fuck. Are you okay?” asked Ronan. He felt close to falling over. He hunched over, resting his forearms against his knees. 

“Yes,” said Adam. He lifted Ronan’s chin and smiled beatifically down at him. Ronan’s stomach clenched with familiar pain. It wasn’t fair. He was already dizzy. 

“It’ll be okay, Ronan,” said Adam, and he pressed the lip of the wineskin to Ronan’s mouth. “I promise.” 

Ronan sputtered and tried to jerk away, but it was too late. He had been wrong before not to accept a drink from Adam, and he was so thirsty from their long walk through the forest and from the fighting. He was trembling from fatigue and the music was rushing over, always rushing. He drank the wine greedily. It was sweet and full tasting, but it wasn't a spring or summer sweetness. It was an overripe sweetness, that edge of sweetness that preluded rotting. He gagged, but he was no longer thirsty, and the music moved so cleanly through him that it seemed like he had no mind at all. He was just buoyed along on top of it. 

He straightened up and Adam dropped the wineskin. He took Ronan’s arm, and they danced, a mad, spiraling dance. Their feet threw up arcs of brown and yellow leaves from the ground. They stamped their feet and slammed into the other dancers. Ronan grabbed their arms and was grabbed, and they twisted and moved together, before ricocheting apart, and then apart again, like rocks in a landslide crashing and leaping against each other. Sweat poured down Ronan’s back and he stripped off his shirt and threw it to the ground. 

Once, Gansey ran past him and Ronan joined him in the chase, thrilled. They ran together like two hounds after a fox, yelling joyously. They leapt over a fallen tree and ducked beneath branches. They were graceful, swift, but Blue was tireless. She ran on. She dashed into the cluster of dancers around the bonfire and disappeared among them. Gansey pulled back and circled the group, trying to spot her from the outside, but Ronan plunged back in. 

Someone caught his arm and spun him and then he was dancing again. They moved in a rhythmic, seething mass. There was no order, just an impulsive outburst of movement; every body was jerked and snapped and twisted by the propulsive, deafening music. The stars wheeled above them. Ronan felt loose and lightheaded. He was only a leaping body, an extension of the music. He didn’t understand why he had fought this for so long. 

He turned and found Adam again and grabbed him, and they spun together, their momentum carrying them out of the circle of dancers. Adam was laughing. He looked happier than Ronan had ever seen him. Ronan kept his hands on him. They reeled, the earth sliding beneath them, towards the trees. Ronan wanted privacy. He wanted Adam. 

They tumbled into the roots of a large tree. The roots broke the earth, creating small pockets of space. Ronan fell backwards into the V two of the roots made, and Adam fell on top of him. He was laughing still. 

Ronan kissed him, a sudden, clumsy thing. He could taste the wine still on Adam’s lips. Adam made a soft noise and straddled his lap, his knees on either side of Ronan’s hips and he took Ronan’s face in his hands. 

Ronan stared at him, at his long, handsome face and the lines of his neck and the sharp dip of his collarbones. 

Tentatively, Ronan slid his hands under Adam’s shirt, and touched the hot, smooth skin of his sides. The music seemed to dim. It was just the two of them, held in the hollow of the tree, the moon a sliding thought above. Ronan passed his hands over Adam’s ribs and then along Adam’s back, and he could feel Adam’s heartbeat, echoing against Ronan’s palms. Adam shivered and leaned forward. He kissed Ronan deeply. Ronan kissed back greedily, and Adam moaned into his mouth and bit Ronan’s lower lip. 

Ronan groaned and tilted his head back, his eyes closed. He had not let himself dream this. He had barely let himself imagine this. He sometimes thought about his feelings for Adam like they were tuberculosis. It could be latent. He could live with it for a while. But it was rattling around his chest anyway, and would probably kill him eventually. But here was Adam, warm and solid, pressed tight against him, his thin, wry mouth soft, his calloused hands on Ronan’s jaw. 

Something buzzed in his mind. That this was not how he wanted this, this was not how he wanted Adam to choose him. But Adam kissed Ronan’s neck and then sucked down on the skin, and white light cracked through Ronan’s vision like summer lightning. He grabbed Adam’s ass and pulled their hips even more tightly together.

Adam gasped and ground down against him. Ronan could feel his erection even through both their jeans. He was hard, too, stupid, rutting, middle-of-the-night sex dream hard. He rucked up against Adam. He felt feverish. He felt like there was light pouring out from beneath his skin. He kissed Adam’s throat and jaw. He bit at his pulse point and felt the bird-flutter pulse there as Adam cried out quietly and dug his short nails into Ronan’s back. He pulled Ronan’s head back and kissed him, then kissed down his throat and shoulders. Ronan heard a dull roar in his ears; his desire felt overwhelming, felt like the ocean. Adam kept saying his name. It was the only thing either of them had said. 

Ronan moaned and pressed his forehead against Adam’s shoulder. He was close already, so overwhelmed by Adam’s touch. He dugs his fingers into Adam’s hip, hard enough there might be bruises later. Adam pulled his face up and kissed Ronan desperately. One hand dropped to trace one vicious curl of Ronan’s tattoo. And that sent Ronan over the edge, a wave of pleasure rattling from his core and he came with a guttural curse, his hand going slack against Adam’s hip.

Adam hummed his pleasure and kissed Ronan’s temple. His knuckles ran along Ronan’s chest to his shoulders and he kissed Ronan through the aftershock. Ronan caught his breath and growled, then ground the heel of his hand against Adam’s crotch. Adam gasped and rocked to meet his hand. Ronan gripped his hair and pulled him forward into another kiss. Adam continued to rock, frantic and helpless and Ronan unzipped his jeans. And that was enough. Adam shuddered against him, letting out one ragged cry, and he kissed Ronan, hard and messy and full of teeth. 

Ronan kissed back, but he could already feel the ground slipping out beneath him, the darkness of sleep pulling him inescapably down. He rested his head back against the tree, unable to keep his eyelids open. He tumbled. And soon, he and Adam both were still. 

*

“I did not lie when I said your father was a friend to us,” said the queen. She held out a strip of raw looking meat and the falcon resting on her arm snatched it from her fingers and tossed it back. The queen patted the raptor’s head and looked up at Ronan. Her gaze was solemn and direct. 

“Dad was into a lot of weird fucking stuff,” said Ronan, and surprised himself that it didn't hurt to say. 

He looked away from the queen. He didn't trust her eyes. They stood in the guard tower of a ruined castle, overlooking the moors. Ronan had never seen moors in his life, but he knew instinctively that was where they were. The ground all around them was sodden and gray-brown. It undulated gently, unbroken all the way to the horizon. It looked very easy to get lost in. The only sign of human habitation Ronan could see was where he and the queen were standing, and neither of them were all that human when you really got down to it. He must have fallen asleep, he thought dispassionately. After he and Adam… 

He shook the thought away. He couldn’t think of that without excitement and fear churning in his stomach. He focused on the queen. She hadn’t been at the dance, he realized. He would have seen her. He wondered if she’d been here at this strange, desolate place the whole time. He wondered if this was a place like Cabeswater was a place. He thought it must be. 

“I could be your ally, Greywaren,” said the queen, as if he hadn’t spoken. 

Ronan turned on her, savage with anger.

“You’re insane! You kidnapped my friends! And you fucking roofied all of us!” 

The queen looked back at him placidly. 

“None of you did anything you didn’t already want to, Greywaren.”

He twitched. She was like a conman. The kind that say your name a lot to get you to trust them. She lifted her arm and the falcon flew off, its talons flexing into the white skin of her forearm as it lifted off. But it didn’t leave marks, and she didn’t seem to feel any pain. 

Ronan watched the bird soar until it was a small, wheeling shape high above. He missed Chainsaw with a sharp ache in his chest. Would she be able to find him here? 

“What the fuck do you want from us? From me?” 

“That’s an interesting question,” said the queen. “You and your friend Adam both have talents. I’d like to make use of them when my people require it. And,” she lifted an eyebrow, “I’d like you all to stop searching for Glendower. You’ve caused enough havoc already. You have no idea what you’ve woken up.” 

Ronan bristled, though it was true. They had spent the past few months waiting for whatever had woken beneath the mountains to strike. But so far, there had been nothing but dread and a creeping wrongness. 

“So fucking enlighten me.”

“Your father was a much more reasonable man,” sighed the queen. “He understood how valuable my friendship, how implacable my enmity.” 

“Oh, yeah. You’re terrifying. Listen, you mosquito, I don’t make deals when I’m being extorted.” 

“Why not?” she asked. She stared at him with her impossible, fathomless eyes, and he thought he saw the stars behind them. “Would it be any different from the deal Adam made with Cabeswater?” 

“That was different! He didn’t have a – ”

“A choice?” the queen smiled. She shook out her hair and looked up at the falcon soaring high above them. “Do you know what it was I asked of your father?” 

Ronan glared at her suspiciously. He didn’t like this change of subject. But he couldn’t lie to himself. He had been curious. Above them, the falcon dove suddenly, death descending on some unseen animal below. That would be him, he thought, feeling sick, if he took the queen’s offer – her pet, apparently free, still deadly, but never really beyond her call. 

“What did you want from him?”

The queen touched his hand and then squeezed it. She felt like ice. 

“Simple. Only that he use his powers to drain the corpse road.” She paused and looked at him once more, her expression freighted with meaning.

“To make sure Cabeswater did not awaken.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next part will be up in another weekish! Thanks for reading, and thanks for all the lovely feedback so far. :)


	3. The Third Night (and the Morning After)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uuuuuuuuuuuh... A weekish can actually mean two years, right? If we're talking fairy time? Anyway. Sorry. I'm done. Here's the last part.

Sometime later, Ronan woke up. He was cold and stiff, and his dream was lodged in his head like a bullet in the body. He felt half in it still, as if he could still argue with the queen. He rolled onto his back and blinked slowly, letting his eyes adjust to the dim and flickering light. He realized he was once again underground. As he sat up, a blanket slid off him, and he realized it was the exact same burrow he had woken up in the night before. _Was_ it night again? He couldn’t tell. He felt timeless, stranded. 

He turned his head and saw that Adam and Blue both lay on the ground near him. 

But there was no sign of Gansey. 

“Fuck,” he said. His voice sounded scratchy and off, even to his own ears, and his head had the muted, pounding ache of a bad hangover. He crawled over to Adam and shook him. 

“Get the fuck up, Parrish,” he whispered. 

Adam groaned and threw his arm over his face, like this was a normal morning, like they weren’t all trapped the fuck underground in the cold dark earth. 

“Wake the fuck up!” said Ronan. He shook Adam harder. 

Adam’s eyes snapped open. There was no recognition in them and no Cabeswater either, only a vast and terrifying blankness, worse than a doll’s, worse than the dead’s. Ronan jerked back. 

And then Adam sat up and rubbed his face. He looked at Ronan, and his _Adamness_ slid back onto his face, obvious in the slight squint of his eyes, the furrow of his eyebrows, the way he held his jaw and turned his head to favor his good ear. His mouth turned in a familiar frown. 

“I keep hoping it’s just a bad dream,” he said. 

Ronan tried to think of something clever to say in response and found nothing. He wanted to put his hands on Adam and make sure all of him had returned. But he just shrugged. There was a dark bruise on Adam’s throat. 

“Wake Blue up.” 

Adam rolled his eyes at him and crawled over to Blue. That was a good sign at least – if Adam had enough sass in him to roll his fucking eyes, maybe things weren’t so dire.

“Blue,” said Adam, shaking her gently. “Blue. Are you all right?” 

Blue moaned something incomprehensible in response and then she sat bolt upright, eyes huge. Adam shot backwards in surprise. The blood fled Blue’s face. 

“Oh no,” she said. “Oh no.” 

“What?” said Ronan. He looked around for some cause – but Blue’s eyes were wide and blank, and there was no obvious threat around. Whatever scared her was internal. 

“I kissed Gansey,” she whispered. “Last night.” 

She looked around frantically. 

“Where is he?” she asked. She scrambled to her feet. “Gansey?” 

“He’s not here,” said Ronan. He felt suddenly cold. He’d never seen Blue so panicked before. “What’s it matter if you kissed him?” 

“Because!” cried Blue. “Because!” 

She cried out again, wordless and scared, and then dropped back to the floor, hugging her knees to her chest. 

“What’s it matter?” asked Ronan again. He kneeled in front of her and held his hands out, unsure how best to comfort her. He patted her knee.

“We all kissed someone last night,” he added quietly. 

He carefully avoided looking at Adam. Or did more than kiss, he thought. His pants were stiff and covered in dirt, and he could feel the marks on his skin that Adam had left. Even in the dizzy kaleidoscope of memories from the night before, the memory of Adam’s mouth on his was clear. It burned like a brand. 

“Because,” said Blue, high-pitched, speaking into her hands. “If I kiss my true love, he’ll die.” 

For a moment, no one spoke. The lights above them glimmered peacefully, and Ronan was overcome by a sense of crawling dread. 

“How do you know he’s your true love?” he whispered.

Blue just shook her head. 

“He’ll be fine,” said Adam into the darkness. He put his hands on Blue’s shoulders. Ronan looked up at him, at a loss. Adam met his eyes. 

“He’ll be fine,” repeated Adam firmly, and it felt like it was as much for Ronan’s benefit as it was for Blue’s. Something in his voice echoed like water on stone. 

Gansey couldn’t die, thought Ronan. That was impossible. Even in a year of impossible things, even after last night, seeing Gansey wild and mindless, Ronan couldn’t believe that Gansey was mortal. 

He didn’t have time to let the thought take shape and form, to acquire the heft of possibility. Their guards showed up, still with hard faces and black-tipped spears of stone. 

Ronan rose to his feet. He was dizzy and aching and cold and angry. 

“Where the fuck is Gansey?” he snarled at them. 

The one in the lead, whose hair was moon-bright and silver, laughed. 

“You’ll see,” he said. “It’s time to go.”

Ronan went to swing. 

Adam grabbed his arm and yanked him back. 

“What the _fuck_?” snapped Ronan. He whirled on his foot to face Adam. 

Adam looked calmly back. 

“It’s not worth getting into a fight right now,” he said. 

Some of his Adamness had left his face again. His voice was Adam’s, and his words were Adam’s, but _Adam_ would have been less calm, more sneering. He wasn’t the void that had woken up, but he wasn’t Adam either. He was somewhere in between. Ronan took this all in and then stepped aside, to Blue, and helped her to her feet. At least Blue was still Blue, even if she were currently panicking. 

He didn’t know who the hell Adam was right now.

Blue leaned against Ronan gratefully. 

“Adam’s right,” she said quietly, and some of the steel had returned to her voice. 

“Sure,” said Ronan. He scowled at the guards, who had watched the minor drama play out with minimal interest. “Let’s get going then, you fucking wasps.” 

They were led out. Their guards remained silent. 

Dirt fell onto Ronan’s face as they walked, and he brushed it off. He looked up, scowling. A small, pale root had thrust itself through the earth and emerged into the tunnel. As Ronan looked at it, the root seemed to move, inching slowly forward and following the movement of their group. For a dizzy second, Ronan thought maybe it was some kind of weird vertigo – like the way the moon sometimes seems to follow a car. But more dirt fell onto his face. The root was definitely moving. He glanced around to see if anyone else had noticed. The guards had not. Blue also seemed oblivious, focused as she was on the guards, like she was trying to plot an escape. But Adam caught Ronan’s eye and nodded slightly. He looked totally serene. Ronan wondered if he were once again under the queen’s thrall. 

But then Adam smiled, chilling and cheerful, and in the ghostly light of the tunnel, Ronan could see the dim movement of leaves reflected in Adam’s eyes. If Adam was under a spell, it definitely wasn’t the queen’s. 

They took the spiral staircase Adam and Ronan had found the night before. This time though, no music and no fire greeted them. The clearing was silent and dark, and they ran straight into a clanging, metal cold. Blue shivered. Ronan, on impulse, leaned over and wrapped his arm around her. 

The court was arrayed in a silent half-circle, all facing in the direction of a tall, wooden platform. 

Through the screen of trees, Ronan could make a tall figure in a white dress, pacing back and forth. There seemed to be another person with her, someone dressed all in black, because Ronan could only tell their presence by the occasional disembodied and pale flash of their hands. 

A drum was struck, and its resonance swelled to fill the clearing. The pacing figure stopped. The drum was struck again. From the opposite end of the clearing, figures emerged from the trees. Simultaneously, each figure burst into flame. Ronan felt Blue jerk in surprise beneath his hands. 

The figures whirled. They traced mesmerizing arcs of gold and red and white through the black night. Ronan couldn’t keep his eyes off them. They were like living fireworks. 

The drumming got louder. More were added, and they layered each other, forming a pulsing, writhing world of sound that Ronan’s heart and head beat in tandem with. Blue dug her nails into his arm. 

“Focus,” she growled at him. 

He looked at her. She was biting her lip hard enough that he could see blood start to form beneath her teeth. Then he looked at Adam. Adam he could usually focus on. Adam could usually hold all his attention. 

Adam was looking up at the trees. His mouth moved silently, like a person in prayer. 

Suddenly, Blue gasped. 

“Look!” she said, pointing.

Gansey was being led out of the woods by the queen. It had been his hands Ronan had seen through the trees. He was dressed all in black, in the raven mask and cloak that Ronan remembered from the night before. Ronan darted forward, towards Gansey, and was knocked back by a spear. He sprawled backward, onto the cold earth. 

“Why Gansey?” said Ronan, yelling over the sound of the drums as Blue helped him to his feet. “I thought they wanted _Adam_.” 

“Not if they wanted us for different things,” said Adam. He sounded almost bored, as if he were thinking about something else. 

The queen led Gansey onto the platform. The drums got louder, reached a crescendo, and stopped, leaving behind that wave of aching when you’re left waiting for the next note. The dancers stopped. The flames went out, and the dancers became holes of darkness where once they’d burned with light. 

The only light came from the moon, and it turned the silent clearing to silver. Every face turned to the platform. The queen and Gansey looked down at them. The queen’s expression was calm. Gansey’s was unreadable behind his mask. 

Ronan stamped his feet in the cold and rubbed his arms. He felt the grip of winter more than he had the night before. Gansey must have been cold, too, because his breath steamed into the air, just like Blue and Ronan’s did. But he didn’t show it.

Adam, like the court, didn’t seem to be breathing at all. 

Ronan shivered, his skin prickling all over in a way that had nothing to do with the cold.

The queen placed one hand on the back of Gansey’s neck. He dropped to his knees, his head bowed. The queen took a fistful of his hair and yanked his head back, exposing his throat. Gansey seemed utterly docile. 

“What the fuck,” whispered Ronan. 

Blue whimpered. Adam did nothing. 

The queen raised one hand high into the air. She held a white knife. The court roared, and the roar was louder and more terrible than any crowd Ronan had ever heard. Once, Niall had taken Ronan and Declan to a fight in a parking lot. He didn’t explain who was fighting, and the only why they got was, “This is how men settle their arguments.” 

There was a small crowd in the parking lot, full of people whose smiles seemed too wide and whose faces didn’t seem to sit quite right on their heads. They were there to watch two men fight – a tall, well-dressed man with cold eyes and a shorter, burlier man with a long scar down one cheek. There had been something about both of them that had made Ronan’s head hurt to look at, and he had watched most of the fight from the corner of his eye.

The fight had been short and brutal. The taller man used his height well and moved with a many-jointed swiftness that made Ronan think of a praying mantis or a spider. The shorter man was barely able to land a hit. After a flurry of hits from the taller man, the shorter man dropped to his knees, his face a distorted, purple mess. The last thing Ronan saw was Niall nodding his approval, because Declan’s hand out then and covered Ronan’s eyes. 

There was a roar from the crowd – shock and satisfaction and fury – and a sickening, wet crunch, both too sudden to tell which was the catalyst for the other, and Declan’s nails dug into the skin around Ronan’s eyes, and then there was a thump. 

When Declan finally let Ronan look again, the shorter man was gone. There was a dark pool of liquid on the ground where he’d fallen.

The roar from the court was like that roar in the parking lot, only this was worse. 

And that was when Ronan realized it: the court was waiting for Gansey to die. 

“The raven king!” shouted the queen, in her voice made of stars. 

The crowd roared again, and this time, Ronan bolted forward. The guards let him go. He shoved past the court, running flat out, running panicked. 

“A sacrifice to close the corpse road!” cried the queen.

The crowd roared for a third time. Ronan was too far from the platform. The queen lifted her knife – 

Noah burst from the darkness. He grabbed the queen’s wrist. 

“He isn’t yours,” said Noah, but he didn’t speak with Noah’s voice. 

He sounded like Adam. 

And then the first tree struck. 

A branch slammed down and smashed into the platform, making it shudder and causing the queen to lose her balance. Gansey merely tilted forward slightly and caught himself against the edge, a calm, smooth movement. Blue shrieked, and Ronan realized that she was right behind him – she’d started running as soon as he had. He reached back and grabbed her arm as all the other trees began to stir. In the thrall of watching Gansey’s impending sacrifice, no one had noticed how close the forest had pressed. Suddenly, the trees were everywhere. 

But the trees weren’t after them. They slashed at the court and smashed them and grabbed them with their hard, skeletal limbs. Ronan watched, fixed with horror as one root rose from the ground and pierced one fairy through the thigh. Blood, bright and silvery, poured from the wound. 

On the platform, the queen wrestled with Noah, who shifted and transformed – a boy, a monster, a boy, a grinning skull. 

On the platform, Gansey began to look around. He moved slowly and disjointedly, but he was at least moving. 

“We have to get him,” said Blue. 

“Right, fuck,” said Ronan. 

He let Blue go, and the two of them raced forward again. They dodged stabbing roots and whipping branches and the fallen and screaming forms of the fey. One fairy staggered across their path, blood pouring from her scalp. She sobbed in pain. Blue half-reached out to her, an agonized expression on her face, but Ronan knocked her arm down and then dragged her past. 

“Focus on Gansey,” he hissed. 

Blue gulped air and nodded. They were almost to the platform now, where Noah and the Queen still fought. Noah’s form was a ferocious shadow, a dislodged piece of nightmare, a thing all teeth and knives. The Queen was a blazing falcon, a waterfall of ice, a seven-headed serpent. Ronan, who could summon any dream into the world, could barely comprehend what he saw. Gansey, half-raised on his elbows, seemed paralyzed in fear. 

“Gansey!” yelped Blue. 

Gansey twisted around and looked at her. His eyes were wide and terrified, and his glasses hung off one ear. He’d shoved the raven mask up and it was caught in his hair. He looked the least like Gansey Ronan had ever seen, even including the night before, and that, more than anything, scared Ronan. Gansey looked young. He looked vulnerable. 

He looked like someone who could die. 

“Gansey!” yelled Blue again. 

Gansey reached down towards them. Ronan lifted his arms up, and they grabbed onto each other’s forearms. Ronan thought he could feel the frantic thrum of Gansey’s pulse, but it just as easily could have been his own. He pulled, and Gansey half-crawled off the platform, and then he was falling, knocking into Ronan. Ronan caught him awkwardly, and they both tumbled to the leaf-littered floor. Ronan felt the air go out of him as Gansey landed on him. 

“No!” shrieked a voice above them. 

The queen stood at the edge of the platform, her dress torn and her hair in disarray. Noah was gone. She held her hand out, and instinctively, Ronan shoved Gansey off and rolled on top of him, protecting him. 

The blow he expected never came. 

“ _Ronan_ ,” said Gansey, out of breath, and entirely, fully, Gansey sounding. 

He elbowed Ronan off. Leaves were stuck in his hair. Adam stood between them and the platform. 

The only thing currently human about him was his shape. 

Dimly, Ronan became aware that the screaming had stopped. The forest seemed to mutter to itself. 

On the platform, the queen struggled against the branches of a tree. 

“Time to go,” said Ronan. 

He hauled himself to his feet, and then shoved Gansey and Blue away from the platform, towards the woods. Something told him if they ran now, they’d actually be able to escape this time. 

They ran. Ronan kept his eyes ahead. He knew he couldn’t look down or look to the side. He didn’t want to see what he knew he would see. 

"Blue!" shouted the queen.

Blue squeaked in fear and stilled. She turned to face the queen. Ronan and Gansey grabbed her by the arms and tried to drag her on, but she stood rooted, stuck. Her eyes were fixed on the queen.

The queen was being dragged away by an oak tree, her hair and dress in even greater disarray. Blood flowed from a cut on her forehead, but she ignored it, focused as she was on Blue.

Blue moaned, and her body bent towards the queen, like long grass bowing in the wind.

"Remember, Blue," said the queen, her brilliant, fathomless eyes holes in her waxen face. "What dies in winter is reborn in spring."

She let out a cry of pain as a branch whipped out and then curled around her face, covering her mouth. She was passed backwards by the trees, and, finally, she was gone from sight.

Blue slumped forward. Ronan picked her up and ran. Gansey would have spent too much time dithering about whether it was appropriate. Cabeswater would take care of Adam. 

They ran. Ronan’s throat and chest burned from the cold. But it was much easier than their attempted escape from the night before. The forest rolled away from them, leaving a soft path of leaf litter and pine needle to follow. Cabeswater was leading them out, and Ronan was sure now, from the way the trees murmured, that it was Cabeswater who had come to their aid. 

They ran for what felt like a very long time, but, eventually, the forest ended. Beyond it, stretched a fallow field, silvered and shadowed in the moonlight. In the middle of the field was the BMW. There was no indication that it had crashed through into another world. 

But there was also no crossroads and no hill. They’d come out somewhere very different from where they’d gone in. 

“Are you okay?” said Blue. She looked Gansey over anxiously, patting his sides and face. 

Gansey grabbed her wrists and stared at her. Blue stared back up at him. There was no room for anyone else in that look. They pressed their foreheads together. Ronan looked away. 

“Jane,” said Gansey. “Blue.” 

Ronan walked away from them, back towards the forest. It seemed to be retreating. When he reached the edge, Ronan picked up a leaf from the floor. It was hard to tell the color of it in the bleaching moonlight, but the leaf was frost-rimed, seemed carved from glass. 

The frost began to melt in the warmth of his palm, leaving only a damp and crumbly leaf behind. And then the leaf began to disintegrate, too, fading like a star at dawn, until he held nothing at all. 

He looked up. The forest was gone. 

Where the fuck was Adam? 

He turned and stalked back to the BMW. Both Blue and Gansey looked up at him, whatever conversation they’d been having dead in their mouths. 

“What,” began Gansey, and then he looked past Ronan, where the forest should be. “Where’s Adam?” he asked. 

“Cabeswater, probably,” snapped Ronan. “Give me a minute.” 

He climbed into the BMW and slammed the door shut behind him. He could see both Blue and Gansey staring at him through the windshield. He flipped them off, more for the comfort of the action than out of any real animosity. Blue rewarded him by returning the gesture. Satisfied, he closed his eyes and tilted the passenger seat back. 

He was exhausted, and, this time, sleep claimed him quickly. When he opened his eyes, he was still in the BMW in an open field. But this time, Blue and Gansey were gone, and the forest was still there. Though now the forest was a mass of dark and creeping trees and tangles, in the full, violent excess of high summer, no longer thin and hard in autumn’s death. 

The thought came to him then that the forest was fully leafed once more because it had just eaten. He shuddered and forced the thought away. Then, he got out of the BMW and sat on the ground, leaning against a hubcap. 

The sky above began to lighten, though he didn’t see the sun. Clouds covered the sky, and they stretched out in a gray, shapeless screen. It gave everything a watered-down, eerie look, muted and strangely shadowless.

It was strange, to be dreaming, but not to be in Cabeswater, but in this thin, liminal space besides it. He didn’t know what would happen if he walked into Cabeswater now, but he thought he should wait until Cabeswater came all the way back to him. 

Finally, Adam appeared. He came limping, his expression vacant. Leaves were caught in his hair and he was still – still! – wearing that ridiculous, Renaissance Fair shirt. But it was torn now, and, as he moved, Ronan caught glimpses of his chest and stomach. Silver blood was streaked across his face.

Ronan got up and ran to him. 

“Hey! Parrish!” 

Adam looked at him. His expression was wary, alien. He looked like a deer that had just spotted a human – every inch alert, trying to decide whether to remain stone-still or spring away. 

Ronan stopped running. He held his hands out, trying to look peaceful. Adam was at the edge of the forest. One more step, and he’d be in the field. 

“It’s just me,” he said. He watched Adam carefully for signs he was about to run. “Your favorite shitbag.”

Recognition flickered across Adam’s face. 

“Ronan,” he said, his voice a croak. 

“Yeah,” said Ronan. 

He crept forward. Adam didn’t move, just continued to watch Ronan. 

“Where are we?” Adam asked, after a few seconds, during which Ronan had slid forward a few more feet. He was almost close enough to grab Adam if he needed to.

“You tell me,” said Ronan, and then he was at the forest’s edge, too. But he stood on the field, in the dim and dreary light of day. 

Adam tilted his head back and squinted at him. 

“But it’s your dream,” he said, and then he collapsed. 

Ronan caught him. Adam’s body sagged into his, all dead weight. His eyes were closed, his mouth half-open, but Ronan could feel the shallow movement of his chest. He hoisted Adam up to get a better grip on him, and then he carried him back to the car. 

“Sweet dreams, princess,” he said. 

When he woke up, Adam was lying on top of him. Pressed chest to chest, he could feel the slow, solid beating of Adam’s heart. Adam’s breath was warm against his neck. He remembered how Adam hadn’t seemed to breathe at all back in the clearing. So at least, physically, Adam had mostly come back human. 

Ronan shifted awkwardly, trying to get out from under Adam without Adam waking up. But Adam groaned as he moved and lifted his head groggily. He blinked at Ronan. 

“Morning, sunshine,” said Ronan. 

Their faces were very close together. Adam’s eyes were glassy with sleep and his hair was pressed damp and close on his forehead. His mouth looked slightly swollen. 

Ronan’s breath hitched. 

The passenger door jerked open. 

“Adam, you’re all right!” cried Blue. 

She and Gansey pulled Adam out, and both hugged him. Ronan pushed the seat back up and watched them. Adam didn’t hug back, but he did lean into them. 

“Where’s Noah?” asked Blue, once she seemed sure Adam wasn’t about to fall apart, or, at least, no more on the verge of falling apart than the rest of him. 

“He went…” said Adam, blinking at them. He shrugged. “He just went.” 

“You were talking through him,” said Ronan. “You don’t know where he is now?” 

Adam shrugged again and rubbed at his eyes with the heels of his hands. 

“I had to use the ley line to do that. And I’m too tired to do it now.” 

“It’s all right,” said Gansey with quiet confidence. “We’ll find him.” 

He put his hand on Blue’s shoulder, and his smile encompassed all of them. Just a day ago, Ronan would have trusted that smile if Gansey had said he could pull the moon out of the sky. But now he saw the tired boy behind it – the fallible king. Gansey didn’t know any more than the rest of them did if Noah were going to show back up. All they could do was hope. 

“We should get home,” said Gansey after a moment. He looked around the field. In the distance, a low fence marked the end of it, and, possibly, a road. “If we can figure out where we are.” 

Adam closed his eyes for a second. When he opened them, he pointed east. 

“Henrietta’s that way,” he said. 

“Great,” said Ronan. “Wake me up if we’re in another decade or some shit like that.” 

He crawled into the back of the BMW, ready to, finally, get a little, real sleep. The keys were still in the ignition. Ronan trusted Gansey to figure out the rest. Adam, with a shrug at Gansey and Blue, climbed into the back with Ronan. 

“Move over, Lynch,” muttered Adam. 

“You’ve got plenty of space,” said Ronan, but he was venomless, already half-asleep. 

“But I’m not comfortable,” said Adam, and then he did the most baffling thing he could have done: he laid his head on Ronan’s shoulder. 

After a second, Ronan shifted. He lifted his arm and put it around Adam’s shoulder. Adam mumbled in response, and his head dropped lower, onto Ronan’s chest. Through the window, Ronan could see Blue and Gansey watching them with twin bemused expressions. He shook his head – he didn’t know either – and closed his eyes, leaning his head against the cool glass of the window. Adam was a warm, comforting weight against him. Ronan was too tired to even be excited by the physical proximity. He just felt a bone deep, animal satisfaction at the contact. 

Slowly, their breathing synced, and both of them fell asleep. 

*

In his dream, he was back in the moors. The field was gone and so was the forest. He could see the ruined castle at a distance, but it seemed to have crumbled into itself even more. No one walked its ramparts, stood in its tower. Nothing seemed to live among the ruins or in the moor at all. 

And then a bird’s shadow passed above him. He tensed and looked up, expecting to see the queen’s falcon. But it was Chainsaw. She cawed loudly once he spotted her. Beaming, he held his hand out for her to land. 

“There you are,” he said, rubbing her head. “Have you been here this whole time?”

She cawed once in response, and the sound of it seemed to carry for ages across the empty moor. 

* 

When he woke up, the BMW was stopped. He didn’t open his eyes to see where they were. He could hear Gansey and Blue were whispering anxiously. He had the feeling it wasn’t about the car being stopped, and that it wasn’t a conversation they’d want Ronan to overhear. He kept very still. 

“I don’t know!” said Blue. “I don’t know if we…”

She trailed off. Gansey, when he spoke, sounded anguished. 

“It wouldn’t count. It shouldn’t count!” 

“Shouldn’t doesn’t matter,” said Blue, and there was a definite hitch to her voice. “If _shouldn’t_ mattered, none of this would even be an issue!” 

“We’ll find a way around it,” said Gansey. “And even – even if it is true, we don’t know if I’m, you know. And it could be – there are always ways around prophecies. Loopholes. I’m not worried.” 

“Maybe you should be,” said Adam. 

Ronan opened his eyes, and Adam moved away from him, sat up straight. Ronan missed his warmth and presence with an ache. But at least he had Chainsaw back with him.

Both Blue and Gansey turned around to look at them. Ronan cracked a smile at them. 

“That was some crazy shit, huh?” he said. 

Adam snorted. 

“Yes…” Blue frowned. “Adam…” 

She trailed off again, and something passed between Blue and Adam that Ronan couldn’t read. It made his stomach tighten in jealousy. 

“What the fuck are you guys talking about?” he snapped. “So Blue and Gansey kissed, and Blue’s got cursed lips. It only matters if Gansey’s her true love. Whatever the hell that means.” 

No one spoke, and no one looked at Ronan. He growled in frustration and punched the back of the driver’s seat. 

“Whatever. We got out of that. We’ll figure out the black widow here later.” 

“Right,” said Blue uneasily. Ronan glared at her, hating her a little – hating all of them a little – for what he could tell they were holding back. She ignored him and looked at Adam. 

"What did happen back there, Adam? Mr. Gray said they were only scared of fire."

“I don't think most people have access to a fucking homicidal magic forest," said Ronan. 

“They didn’t realize how powerful the ley line’s become,” said Adam with a shrug. “They thought they’d have a bit of fun taking me, and then when you showed up…” He looked at Ronan, his eyes light and unreadable. “When Ronan showed up, he brought Cabeswater with him. It was able to get back in contact with me.” 

“I didn’t know I brought it with me,” said Ronan. “I thought you were the one with the micro-chip.” 

“I don’t think Cabeswater cares to make the distinction,” said Adam. 

“We’re just lucky it was able to save us,” said Gansey. 

Ronan thought back to what the queen had said in his dream: that his father had agreed to keep the corpse road drained. He thought about what she’d said when they’d met: that she had seen the cost of Glendower’s wars. 

He thought about Gwenllian, driven mad and trapped for six-hundred years because she’d tried to stop those wars. 

“They got in over their heads,” said Blue softly. 

“Then maybe they shouldn’t have been running around fucking kidnapping people,” snapped Ronan, angrier than he should have been because he didn’t know if he should even be angry at all. He rubbed his face. “And roofie-ing them and shit.” 

Everyone blushed and looked away.

“Do we even know what day it is?” asked Adam, after a pause. “How long were we down there?” 

“Just three nights,” said Gansey. 

He showed them a newspaper. That must have been what they stopped. Looking now, Ronan could see that they were at a gas station on the outskirts of town. It would be another ten minutes or so to Monmouth. It was midday, and the light hurt his eyes. 

“Mom is going to kill me,” said Blue with a sigh.

“Three nights isn’t bad!” said Gansey positively. “It could easily have been years. She’ll probably be surprised to see you.”

“Great. So she can cry on me before she yells at me.” 

Ronan reached across the seat and begrudgingly ruffled her hair. 

“Cheer up, midget. At least we got what we were looking for.” 

Blue smiled softly and glanced back at Adam. 

“That’s true,” she said quietly. 

Adam looked away, embarrassed. 

“Can you drop me off at St. Agnes?” he asked.

“Me too,” said Ronan. 

He met Adam’s eyes in the rearview mirror, a challenge, but Adam just shrugged. 

Gansey nodded. He dropped them off a short time later, with a promise to text Adam if and when Noah showed back up. 

Ronan followed Adam up to his room. Adam said nothing until they were inside the apartment, and he didn’t look at Ronan as he spoke. 

“Did the three of you really try to take on the entire Unseelie Court with just a pocket-knife?”

Ronan sneered at him. “You’re welcome, by the way. And it worked, didn’t it?” 

“No,” said Adam. He wheeled on Ronan, and his face was vicious. “You lost it on the second night. Cabeswater had to save us.” 

Ronan stared at him, and then he said what had been bothering him: 

“The queen said my dad worked for her. She said he drained the corpse road to keep Cabeswater away.” 

The viciousness fell from Adam’s face. 

“Did you believe her?” he asked. 

Ronan nodded. 

“Why would your dad do that?” he asked. 

Ronan shrugged. He had the uneasy, unshakable feeling they were pawns in a game they had barely begun to understand. Cabeswater had saved them, and Cabeswater loved Adam. But it was also stranger and more violent than Ronan had realized. 

Adam was stranger and more violent than Ronan had realized. 

Yet, in the gray, washed out light of morning, in the churchmouse plainness of Adam’s apartment, Adam looked like a normal, tired boy – solid and terrestrial. 

“How much control did you have back there?” asked Ronan. 

“Does it matter?” asked Adam. 

Ronan shifted uneasily from foot to foot. They had taken Adam, and they’d almost killed Gansey. But he remembered, too, the screams and the spilling blood, as bad as any nightmare. 

Maybe he didn’t mind that it had happened. Maybe he just minded that Adam had been the one to do it. 

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I don’t fucking know what to think about anything right now.” 

Adam met Ronan’s eyes.

“I made the decision to open the door. I couldn’t control what came through it.” 

“But you knew what would.” 

“I had an idea.” 

“Isn’t it kind of messed up that Cabeswater could do that?”

Ronan didn’t know what he was asking at this point. If he wanted Cabeswater good or bad. He just wanted it to be simple, he thought, with an overwhelming sense of hopelessness. But nothing was, nothing had been in a very long time, and he didn’t think any of them could walk away from any of it, even if they’d wanted to. He remembered when finding Glendower had just been a lark, a thing to do on the weekends, when he’d done it so Gansey would look at him like he was brilliant and daring and clever – all the things that Gansey was. 

Where had all that gone?

Adam shrugged. He sank down onto his bed and ran his hand through his hair. He looked suddenly fragile. 

“Wasn’t the whole experience kind of messed up, Lynch?” 

He looked up, and Ronan saw a dark spot on his throat. A bruise that Ronan had left there. He felt cheated, and he focused on that instead of the overwhelming agitation and confusion that otherwise confused him. Cabeswater could wait. Glendower could wait. Adam was here now. Adam was who he’d gone through all the fucking trouble for. 

He kept staring at the bruise. He had done nothing with Adam he didn’t want to do, but it wasn’t someone else’s place to make him do it. 

“Right. Yeah. What kind of sick fucks makes a bunch of high schoolers fucking fuck anyway?” 

Adam laughed roughly. 

“I didn’t – ”

He stopped abruptly. 

“You didn’t what?” said Ronan, as dread rose inside him. “Didn’t want to do it? I fucking know that. I – ”

“I wanted to do it,” said Adam, cutting him off. 

Ronan froze. He opened his mouth to say something – even just, “ _What?_ ”. But he was dumbstruck. 

“I wanted to do it,” repeated Adam. “Just not like that.” He laughed roughly. “You’re goddamn impossible, and the most impossible thing about you is that I apparently want to kiss you, too.” 

“No,” managed Ronan. Once again, the world was shifting beneath him, all his knowns turned around, become unknowns, become _wrong_. 

“Me neither,” he said. “I. Not – not like that.” 

“Okay,” said Adam simply. 

Ronan noticed then that Adam’s fists were clenched in his lap. He was gripping the slack fabric of his pants. And, as he looked up at Ronan, and Ronan looked down at him, his throat worked. His jaw was tight. 

Adam was nervous. 

“So,” said Adam. 

Ronan grabbed his shoulders and kissed him. 

Every overwhelming thing from the last few days fell away. For a brilliant, brief second, there was just Adam, warm and alive and in his arms. They kissed breathlessly. They kissed clumsily. Ronan cursed once in pain as Adam pressed too hard against Ronan’s still healing lower lip, and then he pushed past the pain and kept kissing Adam. It was better than it had been that night beneath the moon – a thousand times better. 

Adam’s hands came up and gently held Ronan’s sides, his fingers along the lines of Ronan’s ribs, and Ronan shivered. He kept his hands on Adam’s shoulders. He was too tired, too bruised, too dizzy to do more than just brace himself against Adam’s shoulders and kiss him. 

“I was so fucking worried about you,” he said during a pause, as he pressed his forehead against the top of Adam’s head.

“I know,” said Adam, and he pulled Ronan’s face down and kissed him softly, just once. He held Ronan’s face and stared at him. His face was an equal mix of exasperation and fondness and entirely Adam – not the queen’s puppet, not Cabeswater’s host. 

“Just next time have a better plan than _Plan Shank_ , or I will murder you myself.” 

“Next time don’t get fucking kidnapped by fairies,” Ronan shot back, and then they were kissing again, helpless to the intoxication of their own exhaustion and need. 

But, eventually, Adam pulled away, his mouth red and his cheeks flushed. 

“I really need to take a shower,” he said. 

“Yeah,” said Ronan. He ran his hand through Adam’s hair and smiled at him. It felt like his first smile in three days. “You really stink, Parrish.” 

Adam snorted and shoved him. 

“You’re one to talk,” he said. “Get bent, Lynch.” 

Ronan kicked his boots off and laid back on Adam’s bed. He didn’t make the obvious joke – _plenty of time for that later_ – mainly because he knew it would annoy Adam more if he didn’t when Adam was expecting him to. Sure enough, Adam quirked his eyebrow. 

__“You’re not going to – All right. Whatever.”_ _

__Ronan smirked and closed his eyes._ _

__“You’re not the only one with hidden depths, Parrish. Wake me up when you’re out of the shower.”_ _

__“Not being an actual twelve-year-old is not a hidden depth,” muttered Adam, but even with his eyes closed, Ronan could hear the smile in his voice._ _

__They were going to be all right, he told himself fiercely. They were all going to be all right – him and Adam, Gansey, Noah, Blue, Glendower, Cabeswater. He could bend reality and pull things from his dream. He could dream a world where the last three nights never happened; he could dream for Gansey eternal life._ _

__He held onto that thought._ _

__The last thing he heard was the water turning on, and then he was in Cabeswater, walking between the green, green trees. He could feel the forest overflowing with new and brilliant power: enough and more than enough to do everything he needed to. The court had died, but maybe they had died so Gansey could live._ _

__Maybe Ronan could live with that deal._ _

__I found him, he said to Cabeswater._ _

__Yes, agreed the trees with a familiar rustle. We found him. Our magician._ _

__Adam, said Ronan._ _

__Adam who was all angles and edges, who Ronan would happily cut himself to pieces against, Adam who was smart and sly and made Ronan laugh, Adam who burned even fiercer than Ronan did. Adam who had given himself up to save his friends. Adam, who Ronan loved for being Adam, for being himself._ _

__Our magician, said the trees again. Our hands, our eyes._ _

___Ours ours ours ours ours_ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
